


forget me not, remember still

by Loxxlay



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Choking, Dark Thor (Marvel), Drug Use, Extremely Dubious Consent, Heavy Angst, Loki will not have a good time, M/M, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Mutual Non-Con, Neither will Thor, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Physical Abuse, Rape Aftermath, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, but it'll be okay eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 10:53:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21445033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loxxlay/pseuds/Loxxlay
Summary: For months, Thor and Loki have been fucking at the Grandmaster's whim and arguing in his absence. Desperate for space from Thor's relentless attempts at comfort, Loki confesses his darkest thought: that it would be easier if Thor didn't care about him. Luckily, the Grandmaster has the power to make it so!Or else, the fic where the Grandmaster refashions Thor's mind to his liking, and Loki must decide whether it's worthwhile to love a brother who no longer loves him.
Relationships: En Dwi Gast | Grandmaster/Loki, En Dwi Gast | Grandmaster/Loki/Thor, En Dwi Gast | Grandmaster/Thor, Loki & Thor (Marvel), Loki/Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 112





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My fic for the Marvel Big Bang! 
> 
> **[I talked a lot about my concerns with this fic on tumblr](https://loxxxlay.tumblr.com/post/189046559034/official-note-about-dark-thor-grandthorki-fic-and)**but in summary: Because of school stress, this isn't gonna be my best writing and this story will have a long way to go before it's officially complete. I plan to revisit these concerns as soon as I can! For now, enjoy if you can, and know that I will be editing it and adding more updates once I have more time! I made sure not to end this fic on any drastic cliffhanger, however, so hopefully any wait won't be too annoying.
> 
> **A Quick Note on Grandthorki for those who are unaware:** This fic is a grandthorki fic, meaning that Thor and Loki have had 0 sexual/romantic feelings for each other outside of the Grandmaster's abuse. This has been *mutually* nonconsensual to them because they only see each other as brothers. This is tagged as a Thorki fic because they do have sexual intercourse, but it's a Thor&Loki fic in spirit! And just to be clear, I love thorki just as much as any degenerate lmao, but I just wanted everyone to know what they're getting in for!
> 
> Finally - thank you to **[@veliseraptor](https://veliseraptor.tumblr.com/)** for beta-ing and generally reassuring me about the first chapter! Her own **[Frostmaster and Grandthorki fics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/pseuds/Lise/works)** are incredible, and I highly recommend! She's the bomb and I'm so grateful to know her.
> 
> Anyway without further ado, enjoy this fucking trash fic lmao.

The Grandmaster summoned Loki straight from his brother’s side as they’d been settling down for the night. It was a kind note— _ no rush! Just whenever you’re ready, sweetie _ —nothing threatening, nothing passive-aggressive, nothing to hint at his dismay at either his or Thor’s actions of late. Still, Loki knew a command when he saw one.

“What does he want?” Thor asked after the door slid shut behind the messenger.

Loki swallowed. He already knew what Thor would say. Their last argument still haunted the core of his heart, and his throat was still raw from the screaming and shouting. And tired as he was, he knew it wouldn’t take much for Thor to have him at it again, and Norns, was it so much to ask for one night, just one damned night where he could have the space of his own thoughts, private and unspoken?

He turned away from Thor, keeping his shoulders relaxed, his hands steady at his sides. “The Grandmaster would like to see me,” he said, and before Thor could get up, “Alone.”

There was a beat of quiet.

Then Thor threw the covers away and started to pace across the room. 

Loki tried not to let the tempo of Thor’s footsteps bother him—and he took to counting the circles Thor wore into the carpet. Moonlight glistened through the sweat on Thor’s chest. It was hot. It was always so hot on Sakaar, and no amount of air conditioning could abate it. Loki trailed his eyes down Thor’s bare arms, and there—there, Thor’s fists were clenched, and Loki couldn’t un-see it. With bated breath, he rubbed his own excess sweat from the back of his neck.

“Does it  _ say  _ you have to go alone?” Thor asked, pausing midway across the room.

Loki inhaled deep. “Yes, Thor. Explicitly.”

Thor paced another few rounds, then paused again. “Are you sure? What are the exact words?”

Loki sighed. “Thor . . .”

“And why does he even want you? We were just at his party, for Norn’s sake. Does he not know that you need to sleep?” Thor’s fists were up to his chest now, the muscles of his arms straining with intent to punch. His feet drove harder into the ground as he paced, his rounds growing shorter and quicker. “It’s—it’s ridiculous! How much does he think you can take? When will we ever have a moment of damned peace? We were about to  _ sleep _ —”

“Thor.”

Thor stopped and rounded on Loki, and for a moment, Loki found himself shrinking, his heart skipping beats. “I just don’t understand,” Thor said, his tone bordering desperate. “ _ Why?  _ Why does he want  _ you _ ? Why can’t I go instead?”

“It,” Loki said through his teeth, “doesn’t say.”

“Yes, and  _ why  _ doesn’t he say? Why does he play these sick fucking mind games with us? Why can’t he just drop the act, for  _ once _ —”

“ _ I didn’t write the note, Thor _ ,” Loki hissed. He crumbled the note in his hand and tossed it at his brother, where it bounced across his chest and fell harmless to the floor. There was a moment where the air vent above their heads hummed and rumbled and the buzzing sound of night filled the silence. Then Loki reigned his anger (his panic) in with a sigh. “Can’t you just—just sleep or do whatever it is you do to make yourself feel better?”

Thor’s face was out of his line of sight, but Loki could still imagine the look of horror blazing in his brother’s features. “To make me  _ feel  _ better? You think this is about  _ my  _ well-being? You think it is possible for me to feel better at all while you’re—while he’s—while I  _ know  _ what’s happening to you?”

Loki drove his palms into his eye sockets and turned away. “It’s not that bad,” he murmured, and even as he said it, he could hear the half-hearted insincerity of his tone. He could hear the rumble of Thor’s anger.

“You expect me to believe that?”

A thousand cutting words came to his mind.  _ It’s better than sitting here listening to you shout at me about things I can’t change _ , Loki wanted to scream.  _ I would rather suck his cock all of the night than spend a single second longer in your presence.  _ Somehow he managed not to speak. Somehow he managed to remember he was trying to avoid a fight, not start one, and more than that, that it wasn’t true. He would rather spend an eternity listening to Thor shout than be exposed before the Grandmaster even once more.

And he knew—he knew Thor was suffering too.

He swallowed a lump in his throat and rubbed a sobering sleeve across forehead. “I need to go,” he said but he made no move to get up from the bed. The energy had drained from him so completely that he could have fallen asleep then and there and damned the consequences.

The mattress dipped and Thor’s weight settled beside him, his hip brushing Loki’s. Thor’s hand hesitated, but eventually it landed on Loki’s knee and squeezed reassuringly. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry to have yelled again. I’m not angry with you—”

“You’re angry with him and using me to relieve yourself of it,” Loki muttered. “Yes, I know.”

Thor sucked in a breath, and Loki didn’t feel quite generous enough to lessen the blow.

“I’m sorry,” Thor said a third time. His weight rocked back and forth for a moment on the bed. “I don’t mean to be angry at all. I’m—I don’t know what to do, and I’m—I’m afraid.” His voice cracked, and Loki peaked at him to see tears welling up in his brother’s bright blue eyes. “I’m so afraid for you, Loki. You’re—you’re being—Norns. And there’s nothing I can do.” Thor sniffed, and his grip on Loki’s knee tightened.

A part of Loki was oddly—flattered. To be cared for. To be worried over. Carefully, he leaned into his brother’s shoulder, and Thor welcomed him with one strong open arm.

“I mean it when I say it’s not that bad,” Loki said, maybe lied, or maybe not. Either way it didn’t matter, and it was said to comfort. “In fact, it’s easiest, when I’m alone. When you’re not there.”

“I know,” Thor said, his nose pressing into Loki’s hair. “That’s part of what frightens me. That you’re hiding from me. That I am as much a source of pain to you as he is.”

“You’re not,” Loki said, and this, at least, was not a lie. 

Mostly.

It wasn’t Thor’s fault, not exactly, but… It was exhausting for Loki to carry both their weights. It was exhausting to soothe Thor’s temper, to mediate between his brother and the Grandmaster, and it was exhausting in a way that he was losing the ability to sustain. How many more arguments? How many more fights? How many more times did he have to see Thor crying at night because he loved Loki too much to bear the truth of what was happening to them? How many more times would he have to cry himself?

There were not many more nights that he could take.

Still, Loki allowed them to share this moment. This moment when their bodies weren’t only each other’s torture instruments. This moment where their sides could join, and their heads could touch, and their breaths could mingle, and it was strictly, achingly platonic. The silence fell like a weighty, soft blanket and enveloped them in comfort rather than fear. This. This was worth it. This was the only comfort that made everything worth it.

“I’ll be back by morning,” Loki whispered. “If you’re able to sleep, you’ll barely know I was gone.”

Thor shook his head as if it were his last act of defiance. Still, he let Loki go and rubbed away his tears. “I love you,” he said as Loki rose from the bed.

Loki’s shoulders went rigid, but he forced the words because he needed and wanted to say them. “I love you, too.”

**…**

Loki didn’t find the Grandmaster in the usual room, but he was given instructions to a bathing chamber by one of the guards standing outside. He swallowed the accompanying nausea. Naked and alone in water of an unknown temperature would leave him more vulnerable, more tempting, even if logically he knew no amount of clothes or change in settings would stop the Grandmaster from getting what he wanted.

Reluctantly he announced himself and entered, letting the door slide shut behind him.

The Grandmaster was already disrobed and lounging in the jacuzzi, bubbles foaming around his shoulders and a pleasant smile on his face. “There, you are. I was wondering when you’d show up.”

“Apologies,” Loki said with his most winning smile. “I had something to attend to.”

The Grandmaster gave him a knowing nod. “Your brother didn’t take to being excluded, I’m guessing?”

Loki tried to keep his face cheerful and smiling, but at the reminder, he couldn’t stop the slight twitch to his eyes, the stiffness of his own hands.

“Ah, I thought so,” the Grandmaster said, waggling his finger. “Well, we’ve got time, we’ve got time. We can talk about it later, after the surprise, or maybe before! Plenty of time, plenty of time.” Loki’s stomach churned at the word  _ surprise _ , but the Grandmaster only chuckled and patted the wall of the tub. “Come here, dear. Let me see you.”

Loki moved forward but hesitated at the edge. A fog of molten-like steam hovered at the top of the water, and the heat washing around its perimeter was stifling, smothering. Loki stared. He hadn’t bothered to dress in anything more than a robe, knowing he would be parted from it soon enough, but—but now that it was time to remove it, he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

“Lo Lo?”

“I’m sorry,” Loki breathed. “It’s a little…”  _ Hot _ , he wanted to say, but he couldn't get the word through his throat. If the water was too hot, then the Grandmaster surely wanted it so for a reason—there was no fighting nor escaping. It was pointless to argue.

(And shouldn’t he be used to that by now?)

“Don’t be silly,” the Grandmaster said as if reading his thoughts. “Once you get in, I’m sure you’ll find the temperature quite, mmm,  _ relaxing _ . I wouldn’t ever do anything to make you uncomfortable, darling. You know that, don’t you?”

Loki sucked in a breath. Forced a pleasant nod. “Yes, Grandmaster.”

He let the robe fall from his shoulders and dipped a toe into the water. It burned. He grit his teeth and sunk in all the way. Every inch of his body simmered in disapproval, and nausea surfaced in his chest, blinding him with the white-hot agony of the water. His skin threatened to shift blue—and Loki clung to his magic, struggling to hold his thoughts, his body, his  _ appearance  _ in place.

“There, there,” the Grandmaster said. “It’s not so bad now, is it?”

Loki forced his eyes open, and—it was starting to be true. The initial wave of heat passed as if it had been only a drawn-out wave, and his body began to feel looser. Pliable. The worries eating away at his mind ebbed. The nausea waned. Even the magic holding his skin in place felt less straining to hold, less urgent to cling to.

Somewhere in his mind, he knew that this was not right, that the Grandmaster had done something to him, to the water, or both—but the thought was slippery and difficult to grasp. Especially when the feeling of warmth on his skin suddenly felt so good, and was it a sin to simply give in? To relax? Thor wasn’t here to see, so what would it matter?

The Grandmaster pulled him closer, and Loki allowed himself to be pressed up against the gentle massage of the jets on his back. Lips pressed to his cheek, and a wet hand smoothed his dry hair away from his face, drops of water dripping down his jaw.

Loki leaned into the affection. It felt good. Soothing. Mindless.

“There’s my sweetie pie,” the Grandmaster hummed, contented. “Now—tell me all about this ‘something’ you had to attend to.”

Warning pricked across the back of Loki’s neck. He opened his eyes, warily watching the Grandmaster.

“You know!” The Grandmaster waved his hand urging Loki to speak. “Tell me what happened between you and your brother.”

Loki took a moment to waft through the sense of danger, what was safe to say and what was not, and maybe it should have been more alarming, how hard it was to do that. Maybe the quagmire of his thoughts should have been more concerning than it was. He rested his head against the wall of the jacuzzi and released a heavy, warm breath.

“You know how Thor is,” he said, weighing every word, even though it was becoming increasingly more difficult to remember why. “He worries when he can’t watch over me.”

“Worries?” The Grandmaster gave a soft laugh. “What would he have to worry about? He knows you’re with me, doesn’t he?”

Loki bit the inside of his lip, hard, to remind himself of—of what? He frowned, trying to remember. But the Grandmaster was staring at him, impatient, so he simply waved the thought away and decided on the truth. “Thor doesn’t like you,” he said. He knew better than to say  _ I don’t like you.  _ He was not so far gone as that.

“Mmm, yes, yes, it’s unfortunate, it really is,” the Grandmaster said. “After all I’ve done for the both of you, you’d think—well, just the  _ nerve  _ of him to be so ungrateful.”

Loki’s heart was starting to pick up, the sense of danger lurking ever closer, ever stronger. “Thor tries,” he hurried to say. “He—I managed to calm him down, and it didn’t used to be so easy. You, you know how he was at first. And now…”

The Grandmaster laughed and ran a hand through Loki’s hair in a way that  _ should  _ have felt condescending but really just felt soothing. “Oh, baby. Don’t you worry your little head. I’m not one to be mad about what you two talk about in private.” He pinched Loki’s cheek, and blushing, Loki tried in vain to squirm out of his grasp. “You both are too adorable to keep perfect  _ all  _ the time. So unpredictable. So clever. It’s what I love about you.”

Then, he swept in and kissed Loki, and warmth bled between them. The Grandmaster’s lips were ravishing and all-encompassing, and for a blessed moment, Loki could escape into the bliss, his thoughts of Thor drifting away.

When the Grandmaster parted, Loki let out a soft, “oh.” His head was spinning, and his stomach was twisting with something warm and needy.

“The thing I’m worried about,” the Grandmaster said, breaking through the spell, “is what it’s doing to  _ you _ .”

Loki tried to gather the threads of the conversation, but he couldn’t quite remember. “To me?”

“Yes, darling.” His hand brushed Loki’s hair from his forehead and tucked it gently behind his ear. “Don’t act like you don’t know it, too. How, uh,  _ stressful  _ your brother can be whenever you talk about… well, things. I’ve heard the two of you fighting, and I’ve seen how sad you are, and frankly, Lo Lo, I’m  _ concerned _ . Something’s just—just not quite sitting right with me.”

Lost as to the meaning behind this, Loki frowned.

“See, uh, well, I’m not really sure how to ask,” the Grandmaster said, and even though, deep down Loki still could comprehend the Grandmaster was faking, the awkward, hesitant face he wore seemed so very sincere. “Ah, well, I’ll just come right at it. Never was one for beating around the bush, huh? So, dear—and I want you to answer me honestly, do you promise me that?”

Loki nodded quickly. “Of course.”

“Good, well then—tell me. Has Thor been, hmm, hurting you?”

At once, the bliss melted away, and there was that sense again—danger, danger—and he could barely put his finger on the warning, but it was there. He  _ knew  _ it was there. And he knew he needed to listen, that this was dangerous ground he was treading on, that he had to protect his brother. “No,” he said, his throat going dry. “No. No, Thor hasn’t—Thor never—he wouldn’t do that.”

“Mmm,” the Grandmaster said. “You promised not to lie to me, darling. And remember, you’re not in  _ trouble _ , no. I’m just checking in, making sure everything’s alright.”

“It is,” Loki blurted and winced at himself for the too-quick answer. With a breath, he gathered as much as the sense in his mind as he could and looked the Grandmaster in the eye. “Thor is… difficult. He’s my brother. But he hasn’t been hurting me.”

The Grandmaster stared at him for a moment longer, and Loki’s heart pounded, pounded, pounded with each passing breath.

Then the Grandmaster simply smiled. “Alright! If you say so. I think it’s about time for that surprise, hmm? But first… ugh, well, you just look so cute that I can’t, uh, that it’s hard not to… you understand, don’t you, sweetie pie?”

Loki did. And whatever the Grandmaster had done to him with magic or the water of the tub, Loki found himself untensed and relaxed and not at all concerned about whether or not he wanted this and what it meant if he didn’t. In fact, his cock was already perking and his belly was already stirring with that familiar warmth, and he wanted nothing more than to invite the sensation.

He leaned against the jets and spread his legs, and when the Grandmaster took him, Loki wondered why he’d ever not wanted this.

**…**

The surprise was equally unalarming. 

The Grandmaster had sat Loki down on a couch, and Loki wasn’t entirely certain how he had gotten there or how long it had been, but he was dried and (somewhat) dressed and very comfortable. The Grandmaster was sitting next to him, their hips pressed tight, and Loki was all but sprawling in the Grandmaster’s lap where it was warmest. His wet hair rained droplets along the back of his neck, his skin chilling at the touch of air. 

“So, Lo Lo, I’d like to introduce you to, uh, hmm, I’m terribly sorry, I seem to have forgotten—oh, well, it doesn’t matter anyway. This lovely boy here is going to be assisting me in that…  _ surprise  _ I mentioned earlier.”

Loki opened his eyes and scanned the boy, who was currently laying out his tools on a nearby table. He looked unthreatening and young, and Loki closed his eyes again uncaring. 

The Grandmaster’s nails were scratching just-so into his scalp, and it soothed him, lulled him into a sweet dreamlike euphoria. Even the word “surprise” took on a newer, more comforting meaning. Loki no longer feared the unknown—in fact, he wondered why he ever had.

“Now, dearest,” the Grandmaster said, “I know you’re very,  _ very  _ relaxed right now, and that's good! Wonderful, actually. But I’m also trying to have a conversation with you. So play with me here. Wouldn’t you like to know what the surprise is?”

The Grandmaster’s words rang in his ears as—not quite as warnings, but as reminders. He  _ was  _ being rather rude, after all. Loki forced his eyes open. “Yes, Grandmaster,” he said, and because he was giddy and eager to please, “I would love to know.”

The Grandmaster planted a warm, sloppy kiss to his cheek, and Loki again felt another stir of—not quite of arousal but of a tenderhearted affection. As if there were nowhere else in the world he would rather be. “And I would just  _ love  _ to tell you,” the Grandmaster said. “See, I’ve been feeling lately like… we’ve really just hit that next step, you know? In our relationship. And I thought—in celebration—that perhaps you’d like to wear a token of it being, well,  _ permanent _ . What do you think?”

Considering this, Loki blinked sleepily and looked again at the boy with the tools on the table. He was holding something shaped oddly like a needle, and—his mind lurched at the sight of it. Something was—not right, not right—but the warning in his head was feeble and tired and definitely not very important.

“Mmm, whatever you’d like.” Because to be truthful, Loki couldn’t quite remember what the Grandmaster had asked him.

“That’s just what I wanted to hear,” the Grandmaster said. “Oh, Lo, you’re going to love the design I chose. It’s simple. Not too obvious, but I gotta say, quite romantic. Oh, I can’t wait for you to see it.” To the boy, “so let’s hurry and get started, why don’t we?”

Loki frowned, as the voice in his head became slightly louder, slightly more demanding. A design? Perhaps for an item of clothing? But surely, what could be so bad about that? Maybe he had sometimes felt a hint of humiliation accompanying the Grandmaster’s clothing design choices, but it certainly was not worth the utter dread that was spilling from the backs of his thoughts.

“Now, lay back, dear. It might sting a little, but you and I both know it will be worth it, hmm?”

Loki did lay back in the Grandmaster’s lap because while his every instinct was screaming to run, he couldn’t quite piece together why he should feel so uncertain or why he should be listening to his instincts at all. 

The boy with the needle tool was approaching— _ stop him, rip apart his throat _ —but no, looking at that was too distracting, so Loki closed his eyes once again and let the sensations overtake him. The needle tool didn’t sting at all. It was a pressure on his face as if someone was dragging a pointed claw along his cheekbone, hard but not hard enough to hurt. Quite a number of times, it bordered on ticklish, and Loki let loose an involuntary giggle.

“There, there, darling,” the Grandmaster said at one particularly loud laugh. “I’ve got you.”

And in his current state, Loki felt nothing but  _ loved _ .

While the buzzing continued and the awkward tickling sensation vibrated along the higher point of his cheek, the Grandmaster let loose a contented sigh. “It’s so good to see you like this, Lo. Simply beautiful. Honestly, it seems to me that, well, you haven’t been able to  _ relax  _ very often lately. Have you, dear?”

Loki hummed in acknowledgment, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, neither asleep nor fully awake.

“See, I’ve been thinking about what you said. About how your brother doesn’t hurt you. But there’s more to it than being  _ physically  _ rough with each other. Don’t you think?”

And there it was again. An uneasiness loomed at the mention of Thor, much more muted than before but still present. Loki’s eyelashes fluttered, allowing him a brief glimpse of the Grandmaster, who stared at him with all measure of concern. It was reassuring. Reassuring enough for Loki to ignore the unease and close his eyes. 

“Let me tell you,” the Grandmaster said, “your arguments with each other can be absolutely horrifying. Ugh, the  _ names _ you call each other. The way he shouts at you. Even when you’re both with me, I can’t help but notice the way you flinch sometimes. You aren’t afraid of your big brother, are you, darling?”

At the urging in his guts, Loki opened his mouth to lie—but then he wondered, why was he lying? Why was he so compelled to protect Thor from this person who was stroking his hair and asking such compassionate questions? The buzzing of the tool paused, and Loki shifted his head so he was more comfortably bent in the Grandmaster’s lap.

“Well, Lo Lo?”

Loki considered. And then very carefully, he said, “I’m not scared of him. He just makes me anxious sometimes.”

“Mmm. And it can’t be healthy, can it? To be so very anxious all the time?”

“No,” Loki admitted. “It can be exhausting sometimes.” The buzzing of the tool continued, but before the tickling sensation could resume, Loki added, “I love him though.”

“Well of course you do,” the Grandmaster said. “He’s your brother, after all. Now be still, while our friend finishes up with your face there.”

Loki did go still.

The conversation didn’t resume, and the tickling became lulling, rhythmic. When the Grandmaster didn’t resume the conversation, his mind slid somewhere on the edge of the realm of dream. The world lilted at each stroke of the Grandmaster’s fingers across his head, each thump of the Grandmaster’s pulse where Loki’s ear was pressed against his thigh.

Then all at once, the Grandmaster jerked him in his arms, and Loki flew awake. “We’re done!”

The boy was gone. The needle tool was gone, and—

Oh no.

Oh no, no, no.

His mind surfaced from the hazy lull of fog. He was very awake, very grounded in the moment. The Grandmaster’s arms circling his waist, Loki’s dried black curls hanging untamed around his shoulders, his lack of clothes save for a robe (different from the one he’d arrived in), and—and a very obvious burning sensation on the upper portion of his cheek.

No. No, he couldn’t have—this couldn’t be happening—

“Oh, you’re going to  _ love  _ it, Lo. It looks so, so cute,” the Grandmaster was saying.

Loki swallowed. Surely, he was wrong. Surely, surely, even in the midst of whatever spell the Grandmaster had woven around his senses, he hadn’t—hadn’t  _ truly  _ consented to—

He cut off the train of thought. “Love what?” he asked breathlessly.

“Oh, the tattoo, darling! The surprise I was telling you about during our bath.”

_ No. _

Loki lifted a hand to touch his cheek, but the Grandmaster swatted him. “Now now, don’t touch that yet, dear, it’s still healing. Though, my my, I knew you healed fast, but this just really goes to show  _ how  _ fast, am I right?”

Loki felt his jaw lock around his first question— _ what did you do to me _ —because he knew already that it wouldn’t be well received, no matter how his tongue throbbed with the urge to scream. He swallowed the second question— _ what do you mean, tattoo _ —with the same force as he’d abandoned the first. Beyond that, he found himself speechless, unable to convey the terrible horror bubbling in his chest, because surely this hadn’t happened, surely he was dreaming, surely—

“Would you like to see it?”

And Loki both did and very much did not want to see it, and he didn't quite trust his mouth to say anything that wouldn’t get him melted.

“What am I saying,” the Grandmaster answered for him. “Of _ course  _ you want to see! Come on, come on!”

And thus, Loki was tugged to his feet and guided in front of a full-body mirror.

It took him a moment, a long, long moment, to even place where he was supposed to be looking. His skin looked pale as ever, if only a little reddened around his cheek. Then, he looked closer. If he hadn’t known, he would have dismissed it as a smudge or a stain, but he recognized the tattoo for what it was: a tiny pink heart inked near the corner of his eye.

A wash of numb rolled over him. Even though he stood, perfectly in place, his bones felt liquid and his muscles seemed to sag.

“So?” the Grandmaster asked from beside him. “What do you think?”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. His voice felt distant, foreign.

“Well? Think Sparkles will like it?”

The thought of Thor struck him in the gut. Loki backed away from the mirror and sunk into the nearest cushioned chair. The tattoo was on his face, so there was no hiding it. Thor would see it. Thor would  _ see it _ .

He breathed in to calm himself—only for a sob to burst from his chest. Air came shallow and thin. His hands trembled. Loki drew his knees up to his forehead and curled up on the chair, back to the Grandmaster. 

The Grandmaster’s footsteps drew near to him and a hand rested on his shoulder. “Aww, baby. What is it?”

He tried to stop crying. He  _ tried _ . But as always, his body had a mind of its own. Sobs cut through him like knives, and with each strike, his chest writhed and his arms trembled, and all he could picture was Thor’s reaction upon seeing the tattoo: his face souring, his hands curling into fists, his deafening voice shouting, shouting, shouting. Even if it was all directed at the Grandmaster and not at him, Loki would still have to bear the brunt of it because they were trapped, Thor was trapped, and Thor had no way to cope save for glaring and looming at shouting at whomever was closest—and Loki gasped, almost choking.

The Grandmaster rubbed circles into his shoulder, and Loki hated, hated, hated that it still felt soothing, that it still felt good, even though he was himself again. “Talk to me, sweetie,” the Grandmaster said. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Loki clenched his eyes shut and pulled, hard, at his hair, feeding on the pain that spiked in his skull. “I’m sorry—I’m—I like the tattoo,” he forced himself to say, because somehow he still didn’t want to die. 

The Grandmaster hummed. “Well, of course you like it! It is absolutely adorable on you. Here, dear, sit up—have some of this.”

Loki wanted to stay curled into himself forever, but the Grandmaster’s grip was assertive. He unwound Loki’s hair from his fingers, and gently but firmly tugged his hands away from his face. Then the Grandmaster rocked him upwards. The rim of a glass pressed to his lips. Liquid leaked into his mouth, fruity and warm, and maybe there would be something in it—there was always something in it—but there was also no choice except to drink, and Loki was too stunned to care. 

Besides. The Grandmaster had already proven he could alter the chemistry of Loki’s mind at only a whim.

“There you go,” the Grandmaster murmured. The glass was set down on a nearby surface with a  _ thunk _ , and then the Grandmaster was pulling Loki into his lap.

Loki closed his eyes and let himself be cradled.  _ Pretend _ , he thought.  _ Pretend it’s anyone else. Pretend it’s Thor holding you. _

Nails massaged Loki’s scalp. Consistent breath brushed across his forehead.

Loki pressed his face into the Grandmaster’s chest and wept, and when the Grandmaster didn’t comment, didn’t scold, didn’t threaten, Loki only started shaking with silent sobs anew.

“Sweetie,” the Grandmaster said. “What is this? What is upsetting you?”

There was no way to tell whether it was the drink or the Grandmaster or simply his own tired, fractured heart. “It’s Thor,” Loki said without thinking.

The Grandmaster gave a seemingly heartfelt sigh. “Oh, honey.”

The dam had broken, and suddenly Loki wanted nothing more than to spill everything that had been bottled up inside him. He had no outlet, no way to free himself from the festering thoughts, and he couldn’t complain about the Grandmaster to Thor because it only made Thor angry, made him shout. But maybe, maybe, he could ease the smaller part of his suffering, the other way around.

Whatever he said, it would change nothing. The Grandmaster would have the three of them fucking tomorrow and the next day and the next. Maybe, just this once, he could find release through  _ someone _ , even if that someone was the Grandmaster himself.

“He hovers,” Loki whispered, as if the quieter he spoke, the less weight his words would carry. “He’s always there. Nagging me to eat. To sleep. To wash. Asking if I’m alright when I’m clearly  _ not _ . I’m so—” He drove his index finger into his teeth and bit his knuckle, hard. A soft whine bled from his lips before he could contain it. Then he said, barely as loud as a breath, “ _ I’m so damned sick of him. _ ”

The Grandmaster made a soft hum in sympathy, and Gods, it sounded so kind and innocent. It urged Loki to keep speaking, to keep confessing, because it was already rolling from his tongue and it would take too much strength to fight it.

Loki gasped for air. “Why does he need to care so much?” Tears rolled down his cheeks, and his vocal chords tremored with sorrowful rage. “If he didn’t—if he stopped  _ caring _ , then I wouldn’t have to—pretend to be  _ fine  _ all of the time. I could just  _ be _ .”

The Grandmaster drew him closer. “You want your brother to stop caring about you?” he asked.

“No,” Loki said and clenched his eyes shut. “Maybe. I don’t know. I just—I spend so much time worrying about  _ him _ , whether  _ he’s _ coping, that I never have time to—” Loki cut himself off. Bit his finger again, and he was grateful, so grateful that the Grandmaster didn’t stop him from indulging a momentary pain. Then he said, “It would just be easier. If he didn’t care. Caring is ruining him.”

“I hear you,” the Grandmaster said. “Oh, and I’m so relieved that it’s nothing quite as severe as him hurting you.” He kissed Loki’s forehead and smoothed back his hair. “Still, it must be so hard for you, darling. To feel so vulnerable around him and for him to take advantage of it all the time. It sounds to me that maybe, just maybe, you’re wanting some, let’s call it, emotional distance from your brother, aren’t you?”

Loki let out a breath. “Yes,” he said.

Tension seeped out of his chest. The Grandmaster had captured it, all of it, in such a simple statement. A part of him hated this: gleaning comfort from his own abuser. But a larger part of him was relieved to have spoken and to have been heard. Thor and he would surely face the consequences of his confession tomorrow—but for now, he could pretend it to be simple: an innocent balm to his wounds.

“Well,” the Grandmaster said with a gentle sigh. “Maybe tomorrow we’ll all brainstorm what we can do about it. For now—are you feeling better with that off your chest, sweetheart? Maybe a little sleepy from that draught I gave you?”

As if on cue, Loki yawned. He was indeed sleepy. And very glad of the reminder that the Grandmaster, however good a listener he had been, was still dangerous—slipping sleeping aids into his unknowing body and twisting his mind into conformity at a whim. Still, Loki burrowed himself in the Grandmaster’s arms and embraced the exhaustion.

It was late. He was tired. And if all went well, he’d be much rejuvenated tomorrow when he’d have to face to Thor.


	2. Chapter 2

“Morning, sweetie pie,” the Grandmaster said.

Loki’s eyes fluttered open, momentarily unsure of where he was or what had happened. His body felt wrecked, and his voice was hoarse, as if he’d been--ah. Yes, he’d been crying. Because of the damn tattoo that would be forever plastered on his face.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, thank you,” Loki said out of habit. It took a moment to place himself. The Grandmaster was cradling his head in his lap, and they were both clothed--luckily. It was different from the room he’d been in last night. No jacuzzi. No full-body mirror. No couch. If anything, it was simply a luxurious bedroom, actually  _ air-conditioned  _ and fit with a soft, stiff mattress with covers made of fur. 

Sunlight was filtering in through the full-size windows stretching across the eastern wall. Mid-afternoon, maybe. He had kept Thor waiting.

Loki sighed at the reminder of his brother, and he hoped Thor had managed to sleep. That he was still sleeping instead of stewing in an all-encompassing worry. For once, Loki longed more than ever to return to Thor and huddle in the protection of his concerned looks and his urges for Loki to eat, to bathe, to sleep.

Rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes, Loki sat up fully and glanced at the Grandmaster. “Is there a plan for the day?” he asked, trying to sound casual and not very invested in the answer.

“A plan for the day?” The Grandmaster waved a hand and laughed. “Silly you, of  _ course  _ there’s a plan for the day. No time wasted on Sakaar! And boy, is there a whole lot of time here.”

“Wonderful,” Loki said and hoped his neutral tone could be read as tired, rather than unhappy. “Do these plans… involve Thor at all?”

“Now, don’t you worry. Your brother has already been informed that he’ll see you today at the party today. I’m sure you’re both going to  _ love  _ what I’ve set up for you both--but ah, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Let’s see about breakfast first, hmm?”

Loki dreaded what new torture the Grandmaster had planned for them, but--the dread was nothing new, nothing to take particular notice of, and he was so tired of stressing about unknowns. The worst unknowns had already been crossed and checked-off, the most recent item on the list being a heart-shaped brand on his cheek. What more could the Grandmaster do?

There was always more, Loki knew. The Grandmaster’s creativity was endless.

Still, when the Grandmaster offered his hand, Loki took it and fled his body, leaving his manners, his charm, his obedience to the carefully constructed habit of autopilot. 

**...**

He didn’t return to his senses until they arrived at the late afternoon party. The Grandmaster was talking on and on, and oh, they’d fucked. A couple times. Lazy fucking that didn’t penetrate his drifting thoughts or fantastical daydreams. It was a normal day, or rather, as normal as Loki could expect on Sakaar. He was hoping to keep to this empty, docile mood for the rest of the evening.

Then the Grandmaster said, “Now I don’t want you to think I’ve forgotten about that little brainstorming session I suggested. You remember. About that whole emotional distance we were talking about.”

Loki blinked. The sounds of the party came into stark clarity—dulled conversations, distant sounds of moaning and the slapping of skin. Drinks being poured, meals being chewed. Music, just barely recognizable, floating over the din of other sounds. He was walking beside the Grandmaster, his hand in the crux of the Grandmaster’s elbow, and nothing was out of place, nothing was strange. But something about the words “brainstorming” and “emotional distance” felt ominous. He couldn’t remember why.

“I’m sorry?” Loki said, hoping for more information.

“You know! Last night,” the Grandmaster explained with a knowing smile. “We were going to talk about how to fix things, maybe how to make things more comfortable for you, but if I’m being honest, I just couldn’t  _ wait  _ to get started while you were sleeping! I had so many ideas, and—well. I think you’re going to be really happy about we came up with.”

Unease stirred in Loki’s chest. “We?” he asked, but then the Grandmaster stopped.

In front of them sat a group of Sakaarians, most of whom Loki recognized as his least favorite party-goers. In the middle was a boy dressed as a servant, being shoved and harassed this way and that. It wasn’t an entirely uncommon spectacle to witness at parties. Loki would normally not think much of it.

Except for the fact that on the frontlines of the group sat Thor, and he was not only visibly enjoying the show—but also participating.

His blue eyes were dark, and his grin was unnaturally wide, and Loki knew immediately that it was not his brother. It wore his brother’s face, and when he chuckled, it had his brother’s voice, but it was not him. As Loki stared, Thor grabbed the servant boy’s thigh and ran a second hand under the waistband of his pants. Under the fabric, his knuckles squeezed, and the servant boy jumped and squealed. Thor simply laughed.

“What did you do?” Loki breathed. “What did you  _ do  _ to him?”

The Grandmaster ran a hand down Loki’s side. “Me? Why, Lo,  _ I  _ didn’t do anything. I only did what  _ you  _ wanted.”

Loki reared backward, out of the Grandmaster’s reach. “I didn’t want—I didn’t ask—” But he had, hadn’t he? The whispers of last night’s conversation suddenly came back to haunt him, and Loki remembered the words he knew he shouldn’t have been saying, the wishes he shouldn’t have been making.

“You told me in plain words that you wanted some emotional distance from big brother. That it would be easier if he didn’t care about you. That, and I quote, ‘caring is ruining him.’” The Grandmaster winked. “Isn’t that right?”

A shiver lurched up his body. Loki folded his arms over his chest and rocked back on his feet because this wasn’t a mistake, this wasn’t even a test—this was a game. A deliberate game that the Grandmaster had decided to play with him. He felt sick. He felt like burning the palace down. He breathed deep through his nose, nostrils flared. “So you . . .” He glanced at Thor, and somehow he knew the sight of his brother groping a helpless servant would be scarred into his mind forever.

“I made him stop caring, yes.” The Grandmaster took Loki by his shoulder, guiding him forward. Numb, Loki followed. “Now don’t get me wrong,” the Grandmaster went on. “He’s still your brother. He’s still  _ Sparkles _ . I even let him keep all his memories of you. But, and here’s the good part—everything that made him care about you has been stripped away. And I may have—well, somewhat lowered his inhibitions, tampered with a few  _ particulars _ . But otherwise, this, Lo Lo— _ this _ is all him. Your brother. Thor. And I want you to remember that.”

Trembling, Loki closed his eyes. “Grandmaster—”

“And,” the Grandmaster leaned over to whisper into his ear, “I want you to remember that this is exactly what you asked for. This is a  _ gift _ that I am giving you. I’m expecting you to be at least a  _ little  _ grateful.”

His grip on Loki’s shoulder tightened, and Loki knew a threat when he felt one. He sealed his lips shut, steadied himself with a few deep breaths, and opened his eyes.

“Loki,” Thor called from the sofa unexpectedly. “Why don’t you come join us?” 

The servant Thor’s companions had been tormenting was gone, and the rest of them eyed him with hungry, glinting eyes. Eyes that were looking for someone new, perhaps a little stronger, a little less breakable, to torment. Loki tried to back away, but the Grandmaster caught his elbow and nudged him forward. 

“Go on,” the Grandmaster said under his breath, “go say hello to the brother you wanted.”

Swallowing, Loki stepped inside the circle of guests. On his way, a couple of them moved, leaving a single spot clear for him on the sofa beside Thor. A wide smile crossed Thor’s face and he patted the seat empty space. 

Loki put on his most neutral face and sat.

The second he was settled, Thor swung an arm around him. “We were just talking about you, you know,” Thor said. With his other hand, he took a grape from the plate of a different servant standing nearby and popped the fruit into his mouth.

“Were you?” Loki said, making careful note of how the Grandmaster, seemingly uninterested, was hovering nearby.

“Mmm,” Thor agreed. “They wanted to know how good of a fuck you are. Since, so far, you’ve been reserved for only the Grandmaster—and well, me.”

At the chuckles and curious grunts traveling around the circle, a shiver crawled down Loki’s spine. Silently, he shifted forward to offset Thor’s arm. 

Thor allowed him to escape, but he leaned back, eyeing Loki with what looked like a predatory stare. “Well?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Thor tilted his head as he chewed on another grape. “I want to hear what you think. Would you say you’re a good fuck? Or would you say you're more leaning toward… mediocre?”

Loki squared his shoulders and lifted his chin, even as his heart pounded in his chest. “I don't know why you would want my opinion,” he said rudely, “as I hardly can evaluate myself. Wouldn’t, as you say, the Grandmaster be the proper person to ask? Or better, shouldn’t you already know yourself?”

The smile on Thor’s face faded for a split second, and something dark and fiery flickered in his eyes. Then he leaned back on the couch and glanced around at the rest of the guests watching with piqued interest. “Did you hear that?” he said to them amidst a couple of sinister chuckles. “The Grandmaster’s whore thinks  _ my _ opinion qualifies.”

Loki’s stomach twisted, and the back of his neck prickled with fear.

“You really want to know my opinion, little brother?” Thor said, without looking, as he sipped from a nearby glass of wine. “I think you should  _ show _ them.”

Whistles and blatant catcalls drowned Loki’s ears. The surrounding guests sounded pent up and impatient, and Loki remembered how often he'd teased them at the Grandmaster's undeniable request, how they'd all been lusting for him for months at the Grandmaster's beckoning. Their energy was surging toward something inevitable, and Thor was egging them on, urging their expectations, and—and the Grandmaster wasn’t stopping him.

Loki’s heart galloped, and he urged his body to stay still, to keep from trembling. Then, Thor patted him on the back, hard, and his torso ricocheted forward, nearly tipping him off balance from the edge of the sofa. He feared to stand. Standing could be construed as an invitation. But to stay in Thor’s reach—

“I’m sorry,” Loki said carefully, when the lewd cacophony of interest ebbed. “I’m afraid I’m not in the mood.”

He moved to slip away, but Thor’s hand came down on his thigh, keeping him in place. “Oh, Loki,” Thor said, mockingly sweet. “This is Sakaar. Everyone is always in the mood.”

Loki hesitated. “Thor. This isn’t you. The Grandmaster—”

“Oh, the Grandmaster spoke to me, alright,” Thor said. “Last night. While you were sleeping in his room. After you were done being his good little whore.” Thor’s other hand set down the wine glass to tap Loki’s cheek where the tattoo lingered. “He spoke for a long time. Cleared up quite a few things. And I’ve come to realize—the only problem with this place? With Sakaar?” A nasty smile spread across his lips. “It’s  _ you _ .”

Loki clenched his jaw.

“See,” Thor went on, “the Grandmaster is all about fun. About relaxing. And all you want to do is cry and moan about it, desperate to abuse everyone’s sympathy. At the end of the day, you bring everyone else down with you.” His grip squeezed, and the pressure on Loki’s thigh edged toward painful. “You’re a prude, brother. A cunt. Mmm, and I won’t allow it anymore. So you’re going to let one of my new friends fuck you, and you’re going to be  _ happy _ about it.”

The excitement around them was almost tangible. Every ounce of Loki’s control went to keeping his voice firm and steady. “Let,” he said, “go of me.”

Thor smiled. “No.”

“I won’t ask you once more,” Loki said, curling his hands into fists, even as his heart throbbed and his stomach flipped. “Let me go.”

There was a pause as Thor’s grip loosened and he leaned back, as if thinking about it. He surveyed the crowd, and Loki noted their excited, lustful gazes all centered upon the two of them. Then Thor huffed a deep, rumbling laugh and returned his attention to Loki.

“You know,” he said slowly, “I’ve had enough of you.”

With that, he grabbed a chunk of Loki’s hair. On instinct, Loki scrambled for Thor’s wrist and struggled to disentangle himself. But his grip was stone firm and painful, yanking Loki to his feet. As he was dragged forward, Loki saw flashes of some of the guests standing and approaching, smiles of sharp teeth and reaching hands. 

If Thor had his way—if Loki couldn’t slip outside of theirs and his brother’s grasp—then they would do more than watch. Desperate, Loki twisted himself into a better position and elbowed Thor in the gut. 

A grunt burst from Thor’s throat, and his grip loosened. Loki used the opportunity to slam the side of his hand into the pressure point at Thor’s arm. Thor’s hand came open, and Loki dashed free.

Right into the arms of the crowd's forming circle.

Stunned, he stumbled over his feet, and Thor’s thick arm looped across his neck to catch him. Before Loki could turn himself to avoid the brunt of pressure at his neck, Thor had clutched a new clump of his hair and used it to keep his head steady. Panicking, Loki clawed at his brother’s bare skin, but he was coughing, almost choking, and too dizzy to think.

“Th-Thor—” he gasped.

Thor yanked his hair, hard. “Quiet,” he growled. “It’s time for you to remember your  _ place _ .”

It was those words that stilled him. Those words that had tears stinging at his eyes, even as he struggled for air. 

The person holding him in a chokehold and threatening to have him fucked—it wasn’t Thor. He knew that. The Grandmaster had done more than he claimed, more than just erase Thor’s love for him, because Thor would have never behaved like this. But—in this moment, where he was gasping and crying and hearing  _ those words _ , Loki suddenly wasn’t sure where his brother ended and the Grandmaster began. He wasn’t sure how much of this was the Grandmaster’s magic and how much of it was truly his  _ brother _ .

As if on cue, the Grandmaster appeared on the edge of the crowd. “What is going on over here?” he asked. As if he didn't already know. As if he hadn't planned this since the moment of his late-night summons.

Nonetheless, Loki was grateful because Thor’s grip immediately loosened, if not quite releasing him. He sucked in a ragged breath.

“Sparkles, sweetie, why don’t you let your brother go so we can all talk this out?”

At the pet name, Thor let out a growl that rumbled in Loki’s ear. Still he opened his arm, and Loki stumbled forward, hands rubbing at his neck as he filled his lungs with air. Pain flared in his throat and he coughed into his sleeve, eyes prickling.

The Grandmaster enveloped him in a hug, and despite himself, Loki leaned into it, reassured by the temporary safety, however conditional and twisted it was.

“Well? What happened to make your brother so upset, Lo Lo?”

“Nothing,” he spat. “He just attacked me.”

Thor growled. “It wasn’t nothing.”

The Grandmaster took his chin and made their eyes meet. The pads of his fingers reeked of the memory of Thor’s on his thigh, squeezing, squeezing. “Lo Lo,” he said. “Tell me the truth now. What happened?”

In their shared gaze, Loki felt the Grandmaster’s earlier threat ripen between them. He remembered the unsettling feeling that there might be more of Thor in this mind-bent version of his brother than he originally thought. 

Loki licked his lips, considering. It was a risk to say the truth. The Grandmaster was never pleased to hear actual truths—he only ever wanted the false truths, the lies masquerading as truths, the softer, sincere-sounding euphemisms. But Loki  _ was _ willing to gamble upon whom the Grandmaster’s irritation might be directed. “He was going to hold me down and let one of  _ them _ ,” he said gesturing to the crowd, “rape me.”

The Grandmaster let go of his chin and took several steps back, both eyebrows raised.

Silence fell. Every being in the room went utterly still. Even the music stopped.

Loki knew better than to show any sign of fear. He stood straight and kept his face calm. Even though, with Thor hovering somewhere behind him and the Grandmaster standing unhappy in front of him, Loki was feeling very much trapped.

“Loki,” he said at last, and Loki nearly flinched at the Grandmaster’s use of his actual name, “everyone knows very well that I do not like that word. Oh, I do not like it at  _ all.  _ And honestly! Were it anyone else, I might dismiss it as a lapse in judgement, maybe a little too much drink, eh?—but  _ you _ . You know better. You know that's a  _ very _ serious accusation.”

Swallowing, Loki forced himself to stay steady. “I know,” he breathed. “I’m sorry. I would never say it lightly—but as I know how much you hate the thought of it, I…”

The Grandmaster started to chuckle, and Loki trailed off, uncertain. “You thought I’d like to know what my party-goers may be up to behind my back?” He moved forward and curled his arm around Loki’s waist, turning him to face Thor.

Thor, who looked absolutely murderous.

“Lo is right,” the Grandmaster announced to the horrified-looking party-goers. “I absolutely _do not _tolerate such behavior. Consent is of the utmost importance.” He paused and his head tilted as he surveyed Thor. “So, Sparkles, I do very much hope that you have a suitable explanation for yourself.”

And if Loki was hoping the spell around Thor’s mind had rendered him foolish, he was disappointed. Thor stepped forward, hands on his hips, and met the Grandmaster with a vicious smile. “Grandmaster,” he began, and it was his voice, his charm, but twisted and darkened beyond recognition. “You and I both know that Loki has been…  _ unhappy  _ as of late. I was simply trying to open him up. Expand upon his horizons.”

The Grandmaster made a humming sound and tapped his lips. “Mmm, yes, yes, that might… be understandable. Lo Lo  _ has  _ been quite unhappy lately. But, hmm, tell me more.”

Thor gestured to the party with spread hands. “I don’t know what more there is to tell you. Are your parties not the perfect place to enjoy the pleasure of flesh? Would my brother have attended if some part of him did not want to be used in the way we all know he’s meant for?”

Anxious, Loki tried to speak, but the Grandmaster hushed him with a gentle squeeze to his ribs.

Thor continued to speak, addressing the crowd that had formed around the three of them. “None of you know my brother like I do. He says one thing and means another. He tells me he doesn’t like the sex, but he still moans when he’s fucked.” Thor smiled and faced the Grandmaster directly. “I’m sure you know this, too. He’s a tease. He doesn’t know what he wants. He needs someone to set him right.”

The Grandmaster tilted his head, and Loki realized what this was. The Grandmaster didn’t actually want Thor to explain himself or plead for an excuse. No. There was a calculation in his eyes that had nothing to do with the words and everything to do with Thor himself. The Grandmaster was surveying, studying, _observing_, and his smile shown with pride.

The Grandmaster was appreciating the effect of his work. Of his spell. Of his experiment. He was a craftsman surveying his latest creation, as if it were devoid of thought, of care, of feeling.

Loki’s veins ran icy cold at the thought.

“With your blessing, Grandmaster,” Thor finished, “I’d like that someone to be me.”

The look on the Grandmaster’s face broke, and Loki could sense he was no longer relishing in his genius but rather, stooping to play pretend with them once more. “Hmm,” the Grandmaster said, running his free hand over the lapels of his robe. “You two have really put me on the spot here. I’m not sure who to believe!”

Loki started to speak, but again the Grandmaster squeezed his waist, silencing him with the barest hint of a threat.

“Ah!” The Grandmaster snapped his fingers and leaned forward. “Alright, alright, here’s what we’ll do. Since I can’t do much on either of your words alone, we’re going to have a little, uh, contest. A little show of strength. I  _ have _ , after all, been wondering for a while who is the stronger out of the two of you. My lovely Lo Lo is quite a lot smaller, but, well. Sparkles, you seem to focus a little too hard on the whole brute strength, punch-punch sort of deal. I’m curious, oh yes, so curious. So why don’t we just...”

A nauseating tremor slid down Loki’s shoulders. Thor hadn’t stopped staring, sizing him up, already gearing up for a fight, and Loki knew he wouldn’t win. Unlike Thor, he hadn’t been fighting the Grandmaster at every possible turn. He hadn’t been eating. He’d been lying in bed, shrinking into himself, wondering when he could be free of this. He was going to lose.

“Lo Lo,” the Grandmaster said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “I want you to make your brother come. Your goal is to show me his spend. Anywhere. On the floor, on the loveseats, on your clothes, on your skin. If you manage to do it, then I’ll grant you anything you want. Anything at all.” His smile darkened, and he leaned in for a true, nearly inaudible whisper. “Perhaps I’ll even grant you both your freedom.”

Loki closed his eyes and released a heavy, longing breath.

“And Sparkles,” the Grandmaster said, smiling. “I want you to come inside him. No hole, as it were, is off limits. As long as you fill him up with that lovely little spend of yours—then Loki will belong to you. I won’t ask questions. I won’t interfere. He’ll be all yours.”

It was quick, but Loki caught sight of Thor’s tongue darting over his lips. Thor swayed back and forth over his feet, as if warming up to pounce.

“Alright then. Have at him!” 

The Grandmaster suddenly shoved Loki forward. He stumbled over his feet, barely catching himself, and in the next second, Thor’s weight barreled into him. 

His reflexes alone had his arms up and catching Thor’s shoulders, and though he was stronger by far, Loki bent into the momentum rather than succumbing. Thor forced him several paces backwards, but Loki kept his feet.

“Thor,” he gasped under his breath, “this isn’t  _ you _ . You can  _ fight _ it.”

A growl rumbled in Thor’s chest. Thor twisted Loki’s shoulders, and Loki went with it. He let Thor wrestle him sideways, only to break free in the last moment and slam an elbow to Thor’s face. Loki slunk several feet away and then whirled around, fists raised, feet spread, knees bent.

Blood was dripping from Thor’s nose. He spat a reddish clump of saliva on the ground and wiped his mouth of the blood. “You’re going to regret that, little brother.”

Loki grit his teeth and held his ground. He wished frantically that he had any access to his magic. It was there, large and powerful and humming in the back of his mind, but stagnating under the might of the obedience disc. If he had it—he could win. He knew it.

He glanced at the Grandmaster, who was sitting on the same sofa he and Thor had shared moments ago. His legs were stretched out, ankles crossed, and his arms were spread across the now-empty cushions. He looked, not unlike he did while watching the arena—entertained, eager, and invested in the thrill of the fight.

He didn’t look like he would interfere on either of their behalves, but Loki knew that the Grandmaster did not intend for him to win.

Loki would just have to surprise him.

Thor started forward in clear decisive steps, and Loki waited for him. With each second, his heart pounded harder, adrenaline roaring in his ears. He was without his magic, without his usual strength—but he still had his words. His mind. He needed to use them. He needed to focus on a plan before Thor could wear him down.

Thor swung his fist at Loki’s face, and Loki dodged. Hours of their youthful sparring had him expecting Thor’s second blow to his chest. He sidestepped that one and lodged his arms around Thor’s arm. Thor’s center of balance shifted, and Loki took the chance to twist his foot around Thor’s ankle. It almost worked—almost.

Thor clasped the back of Loki’s tunic to keep his balance and forced Loki’s head under one arm. “You think you can fool me? The way you used to?” Thor said as he walked them around, Loki struggling to keep his feet paced with Thor’s so he didn’t trip. “I see through your mind games, you little snake. I know how to beat you—and this time, you can’t use your magic to  _ cheat _ .”

Loki pushed at Thor’s hip, helplessly trying to free himself. “Yes!” he started. “Yes, and  _ you  _ can’t use your power either. Your lightning. It’s off-limits to you. Why is that, Thor?  _ Think. _ ”

Thor slammed his knee into Loki’s chest, and air shot from Loki’s lungs. He choked on his breath. Throat grappled by Thor’s elbow, coughing did not come easy.

“The Grandmaster does everything for a reason,  _ Lo Lo _ ,” Thor said. “It’s about time you started to believe it.”

Thor’s free hand brushed the nape of his neck, and Loki felt the collar of his shirt tighten as Thor got a good grip. Then, without warning, Thor yanked. A sharp sound of tearing fabric filled the room, followed by the encouraging cheers of onlookers. 

Thor released him, and as Loki stumbled back, he felt his shirt falling from his shoulders. The tear had revealed the entirety of his back. Exposed. Humiliated. His cheeks burned bright red. It wasn’t the first time an entire party of strangers had seen an expanse of his bare skin, but it was something about this, something about the raw force overpowering his consent, that made him feel more naked than he ever had been before.

There was no going back. He had to win. He had to win freedom for them both. He had to rescue Thor’s mind from this cruel, vindictive trick that was being played on him. There was no other choice.

From his periphery, the Grandmaster smiled at him as if reading his every thought. 

Loki turned his gaze away. With a heavy breath, he ripped off the rest of his shirt and tossed it to the floor, out of the way.

Thor was circling Loki from the edge of the crowd. Pride was clear on his face—he saw no need to hurry. He was playing. Reveling in a victory that he already knew was his.

Loki intended to use this.

When Thor’s gaze faltered, when he blinked for a single instant, Loki shot forward. He ducked under Thor’s too-slow arm and swooped to wrap himself around Thor’s legs. Thor fell. Hard. the weight of his hips slamming into Loki’s side had him grunting—but he shoved the pain aside and untangled himself from Thor’s limbs.

Then they struggled on the ground.

Loki made a good show of it. He fought hardest when he had the advantage, but only enough to make it look like he was trying. He was saving his strength. Letting his brother call the shots.

At last, Thor rolled Loki onto his back. The back of his head hit the ground, the force hammering through his temples, and he closed his eyes, willing himself to forgive and forget everything that was happening, everything that Thor was doing. He kept his hands weakly scrabbling at Thor’s arm as if he were struggling to wrestle out of their grip.

But he didn’t fight as Thor unbuckled his belt and slid out of his pants. He didn’t fight as Thor took his wrists and tied them the belt around them so tightly that his bones creaked. And he didn’t fight as Thor pressed a knee to his chest nor as large groping hands ripped at his own pants. Each tear in the fabric made him flinch as cold air rushed to meet his bare thighs. But he stayed still. He let himself look tired.

Thor forced his legs open, and Loki felt the hard swell of Thor’s cock press up against his ass.

He clenched his eyes shut, and his whole body shuddered.

“We didn’t have to do it this way, you know,” Thor said, his fist coming down to replace the weight of his knee on Loki’s chest. “All you had to do was obey me. But you had to make it hard, didn’t you?” A dark laugh. “As you always do.”

Thor’s cock slammed into his ass, and Loki’s mind was engulfed in fire. It was too much, too fast, too hard, and when he at last returned to himself, he heard himself whimper. Shame made his blood run cold. He clenched his lips shut and waited. Waited for the pain to dull, waited as he memorized the feel of Thor’s pace. Hard and deep and brutal.

They’d been fucking for days, for weeks, for months, and Loki knew what all the stages of being fucked felt like. He knew how Thor fucked when he was working himself up. He knew how Thor fucked when he wasn’t close to coming.

Thor smirked at Loki, his hand on Loki’s stomach sliding up to his throat and clenching. Not enough to choke but enough to make it clear that he  _ could _ . And that he would enjoy it.

Loki simply stared back at him, waiting. Letting his fear show and letting Thor assume him defeated and vulnerable.

He waited through each sharp thrust, each slap of their skin. He waited as the rhythm began to pulsate, deeper and deeper, slower and slower. He waited as Thor’s face began to twist in his pleasure, as his back bent, bringing their chests closer together. Thor’s head hung over Loki’s chin, the short-cut golden strands tickling his nose.

Loki waited for the first stutter in Thor’s rhythm. Then the second. Thor’s hand around his neck loosened, and it was close. A moment longer and Thor wouldn’t be able to stop himself from coming, whether inside of him or not.

On the third stutter, Loki slammed his forehead into Thor’s bleeding nose.

He kicked Thor’s chest, freeing himself from Thor’s cock, and twisted himself away. Then he crawled forward as quickly as he could, wrists bound and legs shaking. All he had to do was not be caught. All he had to do was wait as Thor came.

He almost made it. He heard Thor moan in the tell-tale sound of his orgasm.

Then a hand enclosed around his hair and yanked him upward. Loki yelped—and Thor’s cock thrust forward in time for the pulse of his orgasm. Thor was choking him in earnest now, and Loki could do nothing but scratch at Thor’s arms and gasp for breath and cry. The room whitened and blurred, and he couldn’t feel anything but the raw agony of Thor’s grip around his throat. His lungs screeched in need.

And then at last, Thor threw him to the ground.

Naked and gasping and raw, Loki lay there, unmoving and surrounded by an endless sea of boots. Something sticky and fluid ran down the middle of his thighs, and he knew. He knew he had lost. The consequence of his loss seemed distant, forgettable, and he couldn’t quite conceptualize a world in which he was Thor’s prize.

He was too numb to it.

Thor grabbed him by the arm, heaved him to his feet, and shouted something to the crowd.

Loki let his disheveled hair hide the tears on his face. More hands, maybe Thor’s, maybe the Grandmaster’s, or maybe those of party-goers, grabbed him, shoving him this way and that, and he didn’t fight. He followed the path of movement, wherever it led him, hoping, hoping, hoping that at least he would have a chance to recover.

**…**

He didn’t.

By the time he came out of the fog, he was standing in front of the door to his room, and Thor was on one side of him, the Grandmaster on the other. Some kind of robe was tied at his hips and covering him from the waist down, but he was aware of his own nudity and the mess running down the inside of his legs.

The Grandmaster was saying something to Thor, and Loki couldn’t focus enough to understand the words. He stared at the smooth metal of the sliding door and wondered when it would open—and if he would be left at Thor’s mercy once inside.

Thor punched in a code to the keypad, and it beeped green. 

Out of habit, Loki was about to step forward, when the Grandmaster caught him by the arm and pulled him aside. Thor walked in without looking back, and Loki both ached in longing for his brother and trembled in the relief of his rapist’s absence. He swallowed, and faced the Grandmaster, trying to keep his hands steady, his breath even.

“Oh, Lo Lo, why the glum face? I never took you for a sore loser.” The Grandmaster stroked aside the disheveled strands of Loki’s hair, revealing his expression.

Loki closed his mouth and fought to breathe through his nose, relax the muscles of his eyebrows. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t make himself care enough.

The door slid shut, hiding Thor from view, and it was then the Grandmaster’s smile darkened and he patted Loki on the shoulder. “Not quite what you expected, hmm? Well, beggars can’t be choosers, and I must say. You were  _ certainly  _ insistent on having your brother, hmm, ease up on all that hovering.”

He tried to speak, but his voice was hoarse and raw from the abuse Thor had inflicted to his throat.

“You'll have to be louder than that, sweetie,” the Grandmaster said. “Speak up.”

Reddening, Loki cleared his throat. “I didn’t… I don’t want… Please… “ He closed his eyes, took a shaky, shameful breath. “I made a mistake. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I said, so please... put him back to how he was.”

“Oh, sweetie,” the Grandmaster said, “you had a chance to have your favor from me, and you know very well that you lost. I’m a man of my word, and Sparkles—well, Sparkles has proven himself as the winner of my favor, so. For a time, I think we will both have to abide by his wishes for you.” A pause. The Grandmaster sighed and shook his head, almost apologetically. “Besides. I hate to say it, but—you’re coming across as extremely, well, ungrateful right now. Especially after I was only trying to help.”

Trembling, Loki tried to take an unsteady step back. His sore legs buckled, and the Grandmaster caught him by his shoulders and drew him in.

“There, there. It isn’t  _ so _ bad, is it? There was a reason you didn’t want him to care, and I think it’s best if you learn to enjoy it while you can. Perhaps if you’re good… I’ll think about it.”

Despite himself, Loki pressed his face to the Grandmaster’s robe. It was a game. This was all it was—a test. A punishment. This might have been the longest and harshest that the Grandmaster had played with Thor’s mind—but he had always reversed it in the end. He had always bent once he felt Loki had learned his lesson.

And Loki—he could deal with it for a few days, a few weeks even. He could keep himself together, keep his head down, and let himself be fucked by whomever his brother or the Grandmaster wanted. He was  _ used  _ to being alone. He could survive this.

He had survived worse.

“Well, Lo Lo? What do you think?”

“I’ll be good, Grandmaster,” Loki said faintly.

The Grandmaster planted a kiss to the top of his head. “Oh, wonderful. That’s what I wanted to hear! Well, sweetie, you’re a bit of a mess, so why don’t you go inside and get yourself cleaned up, hmm?”

Pulling away, the Grandmaster typed the code into the keypad, carefully out of Loki’s line of sight. Before the final button, however, he paused and looked Loki over. 

“And don’t forget,” he said. Casual but with just enough of an edge for Loki to know it was a threat. “Being good for me also means being good for your brother. You listen to him the same way you listen to me, or else—oh, or else I will just  _ have  _ to assume you’re being ungrateful again! And I don’t think either of us want that.”

Loki bit the inside of his lip and faced the door. “Yes, Grandmaster,” he whispered.

The Grandmaster punched the last button and the door blinked green. “Good boy.”

As soon as Loki entered, the door whizzed shut behind him, locking him inside.

Thor was over by the bar pouring himself a drink, indifferent to Loki’s presence, so Loki took the moment to grab a robe he’d left draped over the arm of a sofa and slip into it. Then he removed the torn fabric wrapped around his waist and went to replace it with a pair of loose comfortable pants.

His hands were stiff and shaky, and his vision went gray around the edges when he had to bend to step into one of the pants legs. Everything ached. His wrists were red and puffy and the glimpse he caught of his thighs was mottled with black and blue. As soon as he was dressed, he leaned against the back of the sofa and took several deep breaths to steady himself.

It was only then that he sensed Thor’s eyes upon him.

Slowly, Loki turned and faced his brother.

Thor was staring at him, half empty bottle of alcohol in one hand, other hand on his hip. The smugness he’d held around the Grandmaster and the party-goers was gone, and in its place was utter apathy. A coldness that Loki had never seen on Thor’s face before—not even when Thor had visited him in the dungeons, devoid of any trust. In that moment, Loki knew that the Grandmaster had left absolutely no trace of Thor’s familial affection.

“Since you are mine now,” Thor said, pacing up to Loki, “I’d like to go over a couple of rules. First is that you obey me without question. My every command.”

Loki stared at him without reacting.

“Second. Stay out of my sight at all times. The less I see of you, the better.”

“How am I supposed to stay out of sight,” Loki said, lowly, “when we share this room? Do you expect me to simply disappear?”

Thor glared. “I expect you to figure it out.”

Loki was about to respond, when Thor’s hand shot up as if to slap him. On instinct alone, Loki blocked his face, quick enough to catch Thor’s wrist. He held Thor, well aware of the force behind the strike and the intention to carry it through. His heart skipped a beat. When Thor’s muscles slackened, Loki released him quickly.

“Third,” Thor said, slow and quiet. “When I want to hit you, you let me. When I want to fuck you, you let me. When I want to beat you senseless, you fucking let me. Is that understood?”

Loki set his jaw against the anger that spasmed in his throat. “I’ll do my best,” he said under his breath.

_ Slap. _

The shock of the blow stunned him silent. His ears rung and his eyes watered, and a moment later his left cheek stung in the open air. Loki held a hand to his face. The skin under his eye felt hot and tender to the touch—the same cheek that been permanently, helplessly maimed with a single pink heart.

“Fourth,” Thor said, and Loki heard the dark undercurrent of his voice, “you don’t backtalk me. In fact, you don’t  _ speak  _ ever. Not unless you’re spoken to. Understood?”

Loki dropped his hand from his face and stared at the floor.

“Is that understood?” Thor repeated with a step forward that brought him well inside Loki’s proximity.

Thor’s breath puffed against Loki’s face, and this close, he could almost feel Thor’s heat, his weight—his hands wrapped around his neck and squeezing, squeezing, squeezing as he came and Loki could do nothing to stop him—he swallowed and nodded once. “Alright,” he breathed as softly and calmly as he could.

“Good.” Thor stayed in his space for a moment longer. Then he backed away. “I’m going to wash up. When I come back, you’d better be gone.”

Loki stood, frozen in place, until Thor’s footsteps crossed the room to the bathroom and the door locked behind him. Then, carefully, quietly, Loki crept over to the bed, sat down on the edge, and put his head in his hands. He tried to keep it together. He tried. But his shoulders wouldn’t relax, and his body wouldn’t stop trembling, and soon enough he was sobbing into his hands for the second day in a row.

The brother he knew was gone, and he was all alone.

It felt like grief.

**Author's Note:**

> [am Loxxxlay on Tumblr](https://loxxxlay.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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